


Cult

by FirebirdsDaughter



Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Category: Kamen Rider Zero-One
Genre: Fanatical Behaviour, Gen, Guilt, Let's Hang Out Sometime, Torture, Trauma, Waking up Restrained, Whumptober 2020, no. 1 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26787379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FirebirdsDaughter/pseuds/FirebirdsDaughter
Summary: Horobi wakes up somewhere he doesn't recognise.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953325
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Cult

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober 2020  
> Day 1  
> Let's Hang Out Sometime/Waking Up Restrained  
> [Tumblr Version](https://firebirdsdaughter.tumblr.com/post/630927325843931137/whumptober-2020-day-1)

Horobi’s system came back online to a ceiling he didn’t recognise, lying on some sort of table. His vision was glitching dramatically, there was a buzzing in his auditory systems, and searing pain in the base of his neck that seemed to be crawling down the mechanics of his spine. Everything was slow and delayed, stuttering and flickering. Despite the fog, he tried to move—only to discover he was secured to the table.

“Those are reenforced tungsten.” The voice fizzled, dragging and grating. It took him a moment to realise that it was coming from somewhere to his left, even longer to turn his head to look.

Lounging in a chair by the wall was a man he didn’t recognise—carelessly examining his katana. He tried to force his system to speak, but the command refused to go through, and he only succeeded in making a few weak, creaking sounds. He could squirm slightly, but couldn’t complete a single word.

The man looked up at him and smirked faintly, sheathing the blade to rise with the same casual air and stride over to look down at him, leaning on the edge of the table. “They cost a fortune, but we figured it was better not to take chances with you.”

The whole time he was speaking, Horobi’s mind was retracing his steps as best he could trying to figure out what had led to this. It was with a flash of relief that he remembered Jin hadn’t been with him, had gone off to patrol the rooftops. It was possible they had ambushed his son separately, but Jin would have been a harder target. No, his son hadn’t been caught in it. But he had been with…

A surge of horror inexplicably became energy, sparking his system into action enough to force out one word. “Naki…” The last few moments before, he presumed, something had been jabbed into his spine, short circuiting his system, were blurry—he couldn’t remember seeing what had become of the other HumaGear during the attack.

The man snorted, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “Sneaky, that one.” He muttered, then gave a grin, “But no matter, we weren’t after them, anyway.”

Horobi acutely felt his brows furrow, each motion so much work he was aware of every aspect. He was glad that Naki was safe, but… What did the rest of it mean?

Without warning, rough fingers touched his face, tracing along his temple until they reached his new earpieces, following the shape. “We just wanted you…” There was something crooning about those words, though the touch was contrastingly harsh, intensifying the lingering, ghostly sensation that still reminded him of the parts he’d lost. “… The one who needs to be taught a lesson.” The man rapped him lightly on the cheek, straightening up. Turning away, he set the katana down, crossing over to grab the handles of some cart outside of Horobi’s range of damaged vision.

“The others learned their place,” The human continued, still casual, pushing the cart up beside the table on wheels that sent painful screeches through Horobi’s auditory sensors, “But you…” The top of the cart was too high for Horobi to see what was on it, but he could detect wavering, blinking lights on the lower shelves, hear a mechanical whirring, painful to his damaged system, “… You’re a problem case.” The hand returned to his hair, grabbing a handful and forcibly turning his head back to look towards the ceiling and holding him there.

There were clanking sounds of a machinery, wires being pulled and moved. “A good HumaGear,” The man’s tone began to veering into something preachy, like he was explaining to a small child, “Is one that understands that humans are the source of all good.” Horobi’s whole body jolted, and an aggressive wave of glitches ran through his system as something was roughly shoved into the wound at the base of his neck, forming an unknown connection with his vital systems. “Something like you, that has negative data on humans, that has any resentment…” The man shoved the cable roughly against his wound, causing another blaze of blurriness, “Cannot be allowed to exist.”

Apparently satisfied with the connection, the man’s fingers touched his cheek again, in a way that was as far from comforting as possible. “Your kind needs only to be devoted to your jobs and adore humans.” The man’s face appeared in his wavering vision again, grinning cruelly. “That’s why Hiden’s secretary was perfect. She understood she existed to serve him, that humans were the masters.” Something dark flickered in the man’s eyes, visible even through the damage to Horobi’s vision, “You ruined that. You ruined everything.”

Horobi had the distinct sense he should have been rejecting the words but… The man was right, wasn’t he? It was all his fault. If he had just… Everything that had happened while connected to the Ark was a strange mix of blurred and distant, but he knew he should have done… Something. Fixed it. Been not… There was something, surely. It was his fault, after all. Was that not why Hiden had let him live? Because he realised that he was to blame for everything? To live with the knowledge that he deserved to die?

The human patted his cheek callously. “You’ll suffer for that.” The man told him cheerfully, grin widening, “And we’ll fix you. That’s what Hiden wants. That’s why he didn’t destroy you.”

Horobi tried to frown in confusion, but could no longer will his face to move. The man chuckled, letting go of his face to turn back to the instruments he’d brought over. “He sends us messages, coded ones. We’re the only ones who can read between the lines.” Another, smaller jolt when something else was clipped onto the metal part of his new earpiece—more sharp jabs into his most sensitive area. “We’re meant to work in the shadows, make sure you HumaGear never think negatively a humans again, make sure you stay loyal and devoted.” The hand in his hair tightened, pulling his head back slightly, making the joints in his neck creak and groan from being forced to work while damaged. “Starting by punishing you.”

The human leaned in, enough that Horobi could feel his breath. “You know…” His tone turned thoughtful, “They say HumaGear programming is designed to provide convincing imitations of human emotions…” The man’s head tilted slightly, “So tell me, you worthless pile of scrap…” The grin turned absolutely horrifying, “…Can you feel fear?”

The human suddenly vanished from his vision, and Horobi just barely detected the sound of a switch being flipped—and then everything plunged into a blur of chaotic colour as his system was overloaded. Years of the Ark let him hold it in, even to the point of biting so hard on his tongue he cut through it and felt hydraulic fluid welling in his mouth. Then there was the sound of a knob turning, a grating, screeching noise due to the state he was in, and it all intensified like the frequency had increased.

And through it all, and a cold, judgemental voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he deserved it.

All other sounds were drowned out by his screaming.


End file.
